


Age like wine (Better with time)

by adagietto



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Friends, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Growing Up Together, Life Lessons, Pining, Scott Moir-centric, episodic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:03:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adagietto/pseuds/adagietto
Summary: Vignettes relating the progressional maturation of Scott Moir and the lessons he learns along the way





	1. Girls aren't so bad after all

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that has been stuck in my head for a while. I finally decided it was time for it to get out of head and onto a document.

 Nine

 

Scott is convinced that Aunt Carol is wasting her time. He peeks over the boards and sees her talking to yet another potential ice dancing partner for him. He crosses his arms as he watches his mother who is on the other side of the rink teaching a bunch of five- and six-year-old girls how to hold their balance on the ice. Rolling his eyes and digging his toe pick into the ice, he snickers as he watches one girl let go of his mom’s hand and land ungracefully on her butt. He is distracted by the scene and doesn’t realize his aunt and a small girl set their guards on the boards and skate towards him.

“Scott,” Aunt Carol calls him. He finally turns his head to face the two.

“Wha?” He fixes his eyes upon the small girl, probably younger than him, he guesses. Upon closer inspection of her face, he knows he has seen her before. Probably at skating camp. She stares down at her skates, her bangs covering her forehead.

“This is Tessa,” his aunt gestures and lays a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

The girl rubs her mittened hands together, still not meeting his eyes.

Scott tears his eyes away from Tessa and looks skeptically at his aunt. This is going to be the third girl Aunt Carol will have tried, with whom to partner him for ice dancing. The only reason he is here at this moment is because his mom told him that in order for him to play hockey, he would have to at least try ice dancing first. He also doesn’t understand why he can’t just train to skate by himself.

His goal has been to skate as fast as he could so that he could one day be the fastest, most skilled hockey player on the ice and win the Stanley Cup (preferably with the Toronto Maple Leafs but he will settle for any NHL team). He hasn’t made things any easier for his aunt by gliding across the ice exceptionally fast and therefore, causing his previous partner (and the other partner before that one) to quit on him almost instantly. _Girls just aren’t as fast as I am. Who would want to skate with another annoying girl anyway? All of them are not good enough, not at my level. This is dumb. I want to play hockey with the guys._

“ _They just can’t keep up with me, Aunt Carol. Sorry_ ,” he would shrug indignantly after each failed trial and return to racing on the ice.

His aunt would close her eyes, shake her head in disbelief, and pinch the bridge of her nose.

This time, she really believes she has found the perfect partner for her nephew. Tessa is the perfect height for Scott, and the only student she’s ever had to have landed an axel on her first try. She’s a tiny, shy, talented little thing and might work well to balance her jovial, confident nephew who can’t seem to sit still.

Carol ignores Scott’s pointed look and asks, “Can you two skate around the rink for me?”

Tessa looks up at her coach and nods. She takes off her baby blue mittens and hands them to Carol.

Scott steps forward. _Let’s get this over with_. He holds out his hand in front of her, and she finally tilts her chin up for her eyes to meet his. Her impossibly green eyes unsettle him. His head feels as if he has lost his balance but his feet have not moved and are planted firmly on the ice. With her eyes boring into his, he suddenly feels anxious.

“Ready, Tessa?” he asks, his mouth unexpectedly void of saliva.

“Okay,” she responds almost inaudibly and puts her small hand in his.

Scott pushes off with his left skate, and Tessa watches him closely and does the same. _I need to stay focused on the plan_ , he says to himself. After two rounds around the rink, Scott picks up speed and gains more momentum. He expects to feel a tug on his hand and for Tessa to fall behind, just like the other girls. Unexpectedly, she kicks her skates in longer strides and perfectly matches his pace. _What the_? On Scott’s face is a frustrated expression, his eyebrows narrowing. Now, he is practically running across the ice. If he could pass a radar gun, he knows he would clock at his highest speed—whatever that may be.

On the sidelines of the rink, Carol Moir rests her right hand over her eyes, knowing that Scott is up to his hijinks of skating so fast to cause his potential partner to let go of his hand, give up, or fall. All three usually happen, sometimes in a different order. She can’t resist a peek through her fingers and catches a glimpse of the pair skating in sync in spite of Scott’s quick pace. She lets her hand fall away from her eyes and her mouth is slightly agape.

Tessa squeezes his hand gently and matches him stride for stride. He turns to look at his partner and her tongue is peeking out between her lips at the corner of her mouth, her eyes glued to her skates in pure concentration. Tessa glides so smoothly and rapidly. Scott stares at her with astonishment, his eyes flickering from her skates to the side of her head. The next thing Scott sees is Tessa surging ahead of him. Stunned and distracted, he abruptly lets go of her hand and rolls on the ice. Luckily, he knows how to fall and tumbles before landing in a sitting position. Aunt Carol quickly comes over and checks to see if Scott is all right. Tessa finishes skating her circle and stops in front of Scott, causing some ice shavings to gather around the blades of Scott’s skates.

“You okay?” she asks him with her big, doll-like eyes. She has a blank expression on her face.

“Yeah,” he mutters. From his sitting position, Scott can feel his behind start to feel cold. _I better get up before I look like I’ve wet myself._ His aunt extends her hand and helps him up onto his feet.

“You guys skated very well,” Carol compliments them. “Do you two think you might want to do it again?”

Scott immediately looks back into Tessa’s greener than green eyes, which are full of uncertainty—at least, he thinks. He can’t read her facial expression, which seems as blank as ever. They exchange a look before responding simultaneously.

“Okay,” Tessa blinks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Scott can’t seem to stop himself before he replies. “Okay,” Scott nods slowly. His eyes widen at his own words. _Why did I say that? I don’t want to ice dance. Scott, you idiot! That’s not the plan!_

Carol clasps her hands together. “Great,” she remarks with surprise. “We will try this again another time and if you work well together, maybe you could try training together. We’ll see how it goes..”

Scott doesn’t know why but he examines Tessa closely to see her reaction.

She nods, a corner of her lips pulling upward in what Scott perceives as a tiny smile.

“All right, Aunt Carol,” he mumbles.

 

__________

 

Some weeks later, Scott finds himself oddly warmed up to the idea of skating regularly with Tessa. He loves hockey, yes, but for some unknown reason a foreign feeling at the pit of his stomach makes him feel almost eager to skate with the tiny seven-year-old girl. Maybe ice dancing won’t be so bad. Danny and Sheri don’t mind it.

On a Saturday afternoon, Scott’s brothers and their friends in the area decide to head to the rink and take advantage of an open time slot to play some pick-up hockey. Scott tags along after his mom nags Danny and Charlie to take their youngest brother with them. Danny and Charlie roll their eyes but succumb to their mother’s wishes, letting Scott play for only a short time because the guys can get very rough even if it’s only a pick-up game.

Bummed from being brushed off to the side by the older boys, he leans his elbows on the boards with his knuckles under his chin. With his helmet off and the rest of him still decked out in Charlie’s old hockey gear and pads, he watches them race each other for the puck. From the corner of his eye he sees a short, bouncy ponytail held together by a green ruched piece of fabric on the other side of the boards.

He turns his head to face what catches his eye. He spots Tessa with his Aunt Carol, who is talking to a tall woman whose hand Tessa is holding. He doesn’t notice himself instinctually softly smile in their direction.

The boys come bounding off the ice and pass Scott to quench their thirst from the pile of Gatorade and water bottles behind him.

Danny is the last to step off the ice and calls to his brother, “Scott, could you hand me my water? You’re standing right next to it.”

Scott doesn’t move, his eyes still focused on the other side of the rink.

“Earth to Scott,” Danny snaps his fingers in front of his younger brother’s face. 

Scott shakes his head and looks up at his older brother. “Hmm?”

“Forget it,” Danny deadpans and bends down to retrieve his bottle. “What are you staring at?” His eyes follow the line of the direction in which Scott was staring. He tilts his head back and squeezes his bottle, causing a straight stream of water to rush into his mouth. “Who’s that?” he asks before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

“No one,” Scott grumbles.

“Is that little Tessa? The one Aunt Carol can’t seem to stop talking about?” he nudges Scott with his elbow.

“I don’t know,” Scott replies but his words sound indistinct to Danny.

Danny grins at Scott but Scott avoids his gaze. “Is she your girlfriend now?”

“No,” Scott frowns, still refusing to look anywhere else but at Danny. His face contorts as if he ate ridiculously sour candy.

Danny nudges his shoulder again. “Do you think she’s cute?”

“Shut up, Danny,” Scott speaks with a tight jaw.

Charlie makes his way to Danny’s side, wiping his neck with a towel. “What are you two arguing about?”

Danny nods in the direction of the women. “That’s Scotty’s girlfriend.”

Scott gives Danny a dirty look but stays silent.

Charlie smiles, “Aw, she’s adorable."

Scott hangs his head down and exasperatedly digs his hands into his hair. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he mutters into his jersey.

Charlie repeatedly taps Scott’s back, “Hey, Scott. She’s looking at you.”

Scott immediately looks up and sure enough Tessa is facing his direction. She smiles with her mouth closed and gives him a friendly wave. Scott raises his arm and waves back. Aunt Carol begins to walk in the direction of the office. The tall woman and Tessa follow her.

Danny and Charlie look amusedly at their youngest Moir brother and then share a look with smirks on their faces.

“Have you kissed her yet?” Danny cheekily asks.

“No, you _numbskull_ ,” Scott snaps back. “Are you deaf? I already said she’s not my girlfriend,”

“You should ask her out, Scott,” Charlie suggests. “She might say yes.”

Scott groans, “I hate you. Both of you.”

Charlie and Danny chuckle at their melodramatic brother.

 

__________

 

Approximately a month and a half after meeting Tessa, Scott casually asks Tessa during one of their practice sessions if they should be together.

“..like a couple...”

He tells himself that he is only doing this because of the incessant prodding from his older brothers, although he knows deep down it’s because he thinks Tessa is nice and pretty cool.

“...I mean, we’re already skating partners so we might as well—”

“Sure,” Tessa chimes in with a toothy smile. Her cheeks are flushed and Scott is unsure whether it’s because of the coldness of the rink or maybe because she is embarrassed.

Scott returns her smile with his lopsided one.

To his displeasure and bafflement, his brothers find out about his relationship and make ribbing comments, jumping at every chance they get.

“Have you kissed her yet, short stuff?” Charlie ruffles Scott’s hair as Scott bites into his club sandwich.

“Scott and Tessa sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” Danny chants.

“Cut it out, boys. Leave your brother alone,” Alma upbraids them.

 

...

 

Ten

 

During past several months, Scott has only increased in his competitiveness about the technical aspects of skating. One day, after practicing with Tessa, he saw her land flawlessly after executing an axel. The following week, he asked his mom if he could get to the rink early to practice his own axel (and thankfully, she does). On the first day he met Tessa, her size bamboozled him. From then on, he felt intimidated by her but was also very intrigued.

He and Tessa are boyfriend and girlfriend but that’s it. That’s where the relationship ends—in labels only. After asking Tessa the question which made the palms of his hands clammy, Scott realized he didn’t know the first thing about dating. He knows he should be "romantic" but he doesn’t know what that really is either. His mom watches cheesy Hallmark movies but he doesn’t glean anything from watching those boring movies. He doesn’t really know what to say to Tessa. He knows she likes ballet but he doesn’t know much about it other than girls dancing around in pink tutus. He wouldn’t know where to “take her out on a date”. He rummaged through his backpack and found a few bucks his mom gave him in case he forgot his lunch. _That’s not enough to buy anything for Tessa._ He is only ten-years-old, for goodness sake, and can’t even drive her anywhere.

He has noticed his palms have become sweatier since they’ve begun dating, especially when he is holding her hand (and he has to do that a lot). He guesses Tessa doesn’t seem to mind. (He doesn’t catch Tessa wiping her hand on the hem of her sweatshirt.) She doesn’t point it out so maybe she hasn’t noticed. (She has.)

Scott and Tessa are performing for the Ilderton Skating Carnival, Ilderton Skating Club’s version of a gala, which is held every year around the beginning of April to celebrate a successful skating season. He and Tessa have decided to perform separately as single skaters for the show.

Scott has already finished performing his program. He and Tessa are standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the ice a some meters away the boards, not saying a word to each other. Scott notices a large metal bucket containing bouquets of flowers set aside for skaters done with their programs.

_Flowers are romantic. I don’t think anyone would care if I took one bunch._

He skates over to the bucket and grabs one bouquet. He doesn’t realize Tessa is following heedfully behind him and turns around brusquely, nearly colliding with her.

“Sorry,” he blurts out, thrusting the flowers into her hands. “For you.”

“Thank you,” she squeaks, her eyes admiring the blooms.

Scott leans in closer and quickly kisses her cheek before turning beet red. Tessa’s eyes widen when she feels his lips touch her cheek. Scott looks at her nervously but relaxes when he sees Tessa’s tight-lipped smile.

Aunt Carol rushes between them unexpectedly and takes hold of Tessa’s hand, pulling her away from Scott. “Tessa, sweetie, I’ve been looking all over for you. You’re in the next number with the other girls!”

Tessa turns her head to look back at Scott apologetically. Scott gives her his most reassuring smile. Before the girls’ group number is about to start, he hears someone exaggeratingly clearing his or her throat behind him.

He whips his head around to find Danny mockingly puckering his lips in the air.

Scott scowls and skates to his brother, giving him a shove and causing Danny to crash shoulders with Sheri.

“Danny! What the hell?” Sheri nearly stumbles.

Scott speedily skates away to find the best spot to watch Tessa’s performance.

 

__________

 

When the crowd applauds, Scott rushes to meet Tessa and grabs her hand to pull her aside.

“You were great out there,” he sputters.

“Thanks, Scott. I—”

He doesn’t give her a chance to finish and crushes his lips against hers. Though the motion is awkward and hasty and their noses bump ungracefully, but to Scott, it’s perfect. He even feels Tessa lean forward, pressing her lips more firmly on his own—at least, he thinks so.

They stare at each other for a short moment.

“I need to find my mom. I’ll see you next week, Scott,” Tessa stammers.

“Okay. You too,” he sputters.

 

…

 

After eight months of “dating”, Scott eventually becomes fed up with all the taunting from his brothers and friends. One of his buddies persuades him to break up with Tessa and so he calls Tessa’s house phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mr. Virtue, can I speak to Tessa?”

“Hi Scott. Hold on,” Jim answers.

“Hello, Scott?” All of a sudden his hand holding the handset feels sticky.

Scott bursts out with, “Tessa, I don’t want to go out with you anymore,” before slamming the handset into his cradle, jostling the spiraled cord.

At first, he feels terrible because he chickened out on hearing her reaction but then he sees her again a few days later and she doesn’t seem to hate him. They actually talk instead of silently skating while holding hands, and the unbearable tension magically dissolves.

Scott feels like he can talk to her about absolutely anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back but won't be writing as frequently as I did so please bear with me. I've been doing a lot of thinking during my hiatus and am not very happy with my writing, particularly in Belgian Chocolate and Now You Know (I'm Yours and You're Mine). I'm grateful for those who enjoy my writing in general and in those fics but I am seriously considering taking them down. I wanted to warn all my readers here in the case that I do follow through and delete them.
> 
> twitter: @_adagietto
> 
> As always, thank you in advance for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting.


	2. Actions indeed speak louder than words

Eighteen

 

He snaps his flip phone closed. _What should I do now? That’s a stupid question_ , he thinks to himself. He knows exactly what he should do. This really shouldn’t be that hard.

_Move, Moir. Get out of here. She needs you._

Interrupting their game of beer pong, he makes up some random, stuttering excuse to his friends. They give each other puzzled looks, which he ignores and runs out of the house. It takes him two attempts to start up the engine before he drives home.

“Scott, I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” he hears his mom remark as he shuts the door behind him.

“No time to explain,” he kicks off his shoes and sprints toward the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Alma asks, a concerned look upon her face.

He frantically describes with expressive hands, “I have to go—gotta shower, change—go to Tessa’s thing.”

With her hands waving, she hurries him away, “Okay, okay. Go shower. I’ll lay out your clothes and find you a nice tie.”

“Thanks, mom,” he quickly yells before slamming the bathroom door shut and throwing his clothes off.

After running out of the shower (not to mention nearly slipping on the washroom tiles), he hastily swipes on deodorant and wavers between two kinds of cologne, struggling to remember which one he wore on the day Tessa told him he smelled good.

Tessa wouldn’t stop mentioning the details of the event during practice. She kept repeating how she was psyched to meet up with her friends from high school this weekend for the Holy Names junior prom. She talked about how much she misses high school—real high school—and how online school isn’t the same. On the ride from Canton to London, Tessa rattled on about the dress she is excited to wear and the boy she’s been chatting with on AIM—the one who didn’t pay her much attention before but now seems like a really nice guy.

Once he parks his truck and arrives at the venue, he spots her right away in spite of the dim lighting. She is sitting alone at a table and looking wistfully at the dance floor. On his way here, he started to second-guess himself, wary and apprehensive if this is considered ‘okay’ with her. Is he overstepping his bounds? Tessa is a big girl. She’s not a painfully shy little girl anymore. No.

 _Does she really want me here? Or will she be pissed?_ He truly doesn’t want to exacerbate the situation. He fleetingly imagines her encoriating him about how she doesn’t need him—about how she needs space to breathe outside of their partnership without him suffocating her, and it’s terrifying.

He shakes these thoughts off with an actual shake of his head. No. _There’s a reason why Jordan called you. I mean, why else would she tell you? She knows Tessa would hesitate to tell you herself._ He doesn’t have to be here. He’s not trying to be her knight-in-shining armor. He is just trusting his intuition.

Dressed in a red halter dress, she pulls at her own fingers in her lap while watching her peers. Her newly-dyed ginger tresses look like smooth honey dripping over her shoulders.

Scott dodges a group of girls rushing past him and walks up behind Tessa. He bends down to put his arms around her shoulders and neck. “Hey, kid—”

“Get off of me!” she pushes his arms away roughly.

“Tess, it’s me,” he says, trying his best to not let her hear the hurt in his voice. _I knew this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come._

She quickly stands up from her seat and throws her arms around him. “Oh my God, Scott. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“It’s all good, T,” he murmurs into her hair, relieved she isn’t the angry Tessa from his nightmarish reverie. “Who did you think I was?”

She pulls away from the hug but doesn’t remove her arms around him. “No one. I—what are you—why are you here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says slowly.

The unsettled look on her voice transitions to one of disappointment. “My sister called you, didn’t she?”

Scott glances up at the ceiling, “Yes, but—”

“You didn’t have to listen to her, y’know,” she briefly shuts her eyes tightly, “I’m sick of everyone treating me like I’m a baby.”

“I know. I know,” he cuts in, scratching the back of his neck.

“So what?” she looks at him calculatingly. “Did she force you to come here?”

“No,” he says with conviction. “She told me about your shitty date but that’s it. I came here on my own.”

She squints cynically, “Really?”

“Yes. I’m serious,” he nods reassuringly, “Jordan didn’t put me up to this. I fuckin’ swear.”

She stands there, staring into his eyes scrutinizingly and it honestly makes him kind of uncomfortable. He tries to look away but her eyes have trapped him. If he looks away now, she might think he’s lying.  

“Thanks, I guess,” she finally speaks.

“You wouldn’t shut up about this for the past two weeks and especially on the ride home,” he asserts. “I know how much it meant to you, and I was worried you’d be—”

“Yeah, I get it,” she softens.

“I didn’t even go to these things when I was in high school,” he looks around at the corny metallic decorations and a number of girls congregating, whispering and staring at him and Tessa.

Tessa’s hands move to adjust his collar and the lapels on his blazer. She ducks her head and avoids his gaze, “You look spiffy.”

"Thank you,” he grins, looking down at her although she doesn’t meet his eyes. “Do you want to get out of here or…?”

“I want to stay,” she utters barely above a whisper. Even though there is music blaring, he can read her lips. “...if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah,” he coughs, “That’s uh—that’s cool with me. Should I go?”

She bursts out with, “No. Please stay. It’ll only be for a little longer.”

“All right,” he concedes then raises an eyebrow playfully, “but only since you’re begging.”

She rolls her eyes and gives his chest a light shove. The disc jockey announces something along the lines of slowing the music down. Couples begin to gather.

Scott gives her elbow a pat before taking her small hand in his, “C’mon. Let’s show ‘em how it’s done, kiddo.”

Allowing him to lead her, she flashes her pearly whites at him in her genuine, unrestrained smile. He readjusts her hands around his neck and carefully places his hands on her waist. Tessa rests her head in between his neck and his shoulder. They stay in that position for three minutes, swaying to the lazy beat. Every movement seems so natural, and Scott becomes hyper-aware of the his hands and her body pressed up against his even though he can’t count how many times he has touched Tessa.

But this feels very familiar yet foreign. He realizes he has held her too many times on the ice and not nearly as many off the ice. Yes, he gives her a friendly nudge here and there and puts his arms around her and lifts her up when he cracks her back but this, right here, feels weird—a good weird.

She is undoubtedly his best friend even though he’d never admit that to his guys. He knows he can’t stop himself from doting on her and that’s not because he promised Tessa’s dad he would watch over her before they moved to Canton three years ago.

All of a sudden, he feels nine again, and Tessa is a wonderful mystery he wants to know better. In some ways, she still is a mystery, and he wants to know everything. _Everything_.

He silently promises to himself that he’ll always be there for her, especially when it matters most.

He makes her laugh with his silly dance moves when the DJ returns to playing today’s pop hits. Tessa doubles over until she is coughing, and Scott is forced to drag her off the dance floor and retrieve some water for her.

“Thank you,” she pipes up, a minute after climbing into his truck.

“Anytime, T,” he removes his right hand from the steering wheel to give her hand a squeeze.

He takes her to the nearest convenience store and pays for all the junk food and chocolate her heart desires, and drives her to his house. In his room, he throws at her a variety of his ill-fitting clothes from his closet until she picks out something comfortable to wear. They veg out on the couch and watch Tessa’s favorite movies until it’s late and she passes out.

Scott doesn’t notice his mom cracking open his parents’ door and smiling at her son trudging down the stairs, returning to the living room after carrying a sleeping Tessa into his bedroom.

 

...

 

Twenty

 

From his peripheral vision, Scott could see Tessa nod at whatever the older man was saying. She nods spastically with her eyes glazed over. The tip of her nose contrasts bright red against her pale skin. The outer corners of her eyes are irritated from constantly rubbing them.

In Scott’s mind, next to Kate and Jordan, Tessa’s favorite person would most likely be her grandmother. He knew Tessa would always make time to visit her grandma whenever she could, especially on Sunday mornings. Other than that, Scott couldn’t tell you much about their relationship.

To his right, Charlie gives Jordan a hug. Beside them, his mom is embracing Kate. For some reason, everyone looks older, Scott notices. _Maybe being around death ages you_. His vision shifts back to Tessa. She may look older than she did five years ago but strangely, she looks younger when she has cried.

His stomach lurches and he is transported back to when he first saw Tessa cry when he was eleven. Again, he feels like he is going to hurl—which is odd because he hasn’t eaten anything since last night’s dinner. His fingers slip behind his shirt collar in a useless attempt to loosen it.

A light breeze rustles by and lifts her skirt up by a few centimeters. Tessa’s eyes dart to his for only a moment. Her arms are wrapped around herself, her left hand stretching the right sleeve of her black cardigan. He receives her untold message that she wants to stop talking to the man and get the hell out of here.

With his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, he walks over to her. Her chin lifts higher with each step he takes as he closes in.

“Excuse me, sir,” he declares, interrupting the man’s ramblings. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Tessa.”

The man bows his head in acknowledgement and leaves to greet an elderly lady, probably a friend of Tessa’s grandma.

He feels Tessa lean closer into his side and slide her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. He tugs on her hand, and she gets the message, letting him walk with her in the direction opposite from the crowd of family, friends, and other guests.

They sit on the grass under a tree. Winds of the young spring season bluster through the leaves, causing the branches to bob up and down. Scott can hear a baby cry in the distance and a car door slam, both sounds emerging from the direction they came from. Scott silently curses to himself for failing to remember the exact location of a certain tombstone, carrying the name of certain someone, whom his mother, father, and eldest brother were alive to mourn.

Leaning against the trunk of the tree, they sit and breathe—foils to the surrounding lost lives, marked by crosses, tombstones, and crypts.

A buzz comes from his pocket, intruding the peaceful quietness.

“Do you need to go?” she asks in a whisper.

Scott shakes his head, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You can leave if you want,” she suggests. “You have my permission.” He doesn’t know if she catches Jessica’s picture flash quickly on the screen.

He presses a button, hanging up the call. He holds the button down to shut off the phone and returns it to his pocket. “No,” he states firmly. “I’m staying right here.”

Scott grabs Tessa’s hand, clutching it tightly in his. He shifts his body closer to hers. Examining their hands, he takes a deep breath before confessing, “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what I should say. I don’t know what you’re going through...but I’m here.”

He looks up to see her already looking at him. Up close, her wet freckles gleam under rays of sunlight that have made their way through the canopy of leaves. Her lower lip quivers and her eyes turn glassy, brimming with a fresh layer of tears. The muscles on her neck move as she swallows.

He shakes his head. “I don’t—I don’t know...so I’ll just be quiet,” he mumbles, “...if that’s okay...with you.”

She bites her lip then chokes out a sob, tears dripping down her cheeks with each blink and drenching her long lashes. The brave mask she put on for the funeral guests melts off. Scott strokes her back and places his hand on the nape of her neck, gently cradling her into his chest. His throat tightens. He suppresses the urge to dry heave.

While softly kissing the crown of her head, he listens to her muffled cries. Each whimper drives another needle into his chest. He sits there, soaking up all her grief and allowing her to mourn without restraint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mulled over my stories and have finally decided that I am deleting Belgian Chocolate and Now You Know (I’m Yours and You’re Mine). Save and download if you want to. After 24 hours, I will officially take them down.
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Chat with me on twitter:  
> @_adagietto


	3. Be careful what you wish for

Twenty-two

 

 _How the fuck did this happen?_ He couldn’t answer if he tried. It’s all a blur—not a alcohol-induced blur—but a blur nonetheless, his mind racing, his heart pounding, and the rest of his body responding to every sensation.

As he finishes peeling the sheets off the mattress, he hears the running water cease. The walls of the apartment are so thin that he can hear her cough and mutter something, which he can’t make out. He forces himself to tear his eyes away from the dried splotches of scarlet on the fabric. Once the doorknob of the washroom turns, Scott pushes the fitted sheet into a plastic trash bag in haste. Tessa steps into the room, her body wrapped up solely in a navy blue towel. Her hair is in a bun with stray strands shining wetly near the nape of her neck and around her hairline. Her arms are crossed in an ‘X’, her palms capping her shoulders. She stares at the floor with her head down.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” he asks tentatively.

“Don’t call me that,” she whines in a loud whisper, her voice slicing through the thick air.

“Sorry,” he apologizes tersely. “Do you want something to ch—?”

She lays a hand over her face. “Shut up.” She takes a deep breath before swallowing, “I’m sorry I...you know.”

“You don’t apologize for those things, Tess,” he takes a careful step towards her. “Every girl is different. Some do, some don’t.” He shrugs.

“I ruined your sheets,” she fusses further.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head, swatting the air with his hand. He scratches the side of his neck. “Did you forget about that time of month?”

Tessa remains silent. Her eyes shoot toward the ceiling as she presses her lips firmly together.

He doesn’t wait for her to respond. “Doesn’t matter,” he blurts. “We’ve been busy and stuff so it’s understandable.”

She shuts her eyes tightly before opening them. “Y-You don’t get it, do you?” she says, her voice shaking.

_What?_

She agitatedly continues, “You act as if we didn’t do what we did five minutes ago.”

Another wave of silence passes. His mind finally connects the dots of Tessa’s words. _Shit_. Shock finally crosses his face, his mouth falling open slightly. His pupils contract, and the whites of his eyes expand.

“Th—that was—” he sputters.

Tessa closes her eyes, tiny wrinkles blatantly forming on her eyelids. Scott immediately drops the trash bag and dashes across the room. His arms envelop her but she flinches at his touch, something she has never done before.

_“I just want to forget the pain for a little bit,” she said._

_“Okay. What can I do, T?” he replied._

Their previous words echo from the back of his mind. _Do you remember now?,_ his subconscious reverberates. “I’m sorry, Tess,” he mutters in her damp skin. He pulls back, his face mere centimeters from hers. “I thought you and—”

“No,” she interrupts with a whisper. “We never got to that point.

“Really?” his eyebrow shoot up toward his hairline.

She nods, her eyes downcast.

His voice cracks, “So that was—”

“Yes,” she whispers in annoyance, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Scott plops down on the bare mattress, his posture kyphotic and his stare blank. Both of his hands run through his hair, his nails scratching his scalp. His eyes dart back and forth, up and down. _That means we—_   

“Please just say something,” she says sharply, sitting down carefully next to him, her elbow clipped firmly to hold up the towel.

“Tess, you don’t understand,” he mumbles, “I wasn’t going to tell you but—”

“Tell me what?”

“That was my first time too,” he exhales.

She holds her tongue for a moment. “But I thought—”

“No.”

“—you and Jessica—”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “We didn’t. Believe it or not, we weren’t very physical. It didn’t help that I was away most of the time, skating with you.”

“Sorry,” she shrugs, “I guess.”

“No, no,” he sighs, “I didn’t mean it _like that_.”

“Who would’ve thought we’d...you know.”

“I would’ve never even _imagined_ —”

Tessa scowls, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Scott’s eyes shift to meet her stare. “It’s not a bad thing.”

She closes her eyes, her eyelashes flattening against her cheekbones. “I don’t want to hear it, either way,” she whispers. She sits down on the bare mattress next to him, carefully laying her head on his shoulder.

Scott releases a heavy breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, and reaches an arm around Tessa, caressing the soft skin of her arm. The scent of his body wash mixed with Tessa’s aroma wafts under his nose. He gives her arm a squeeze and coaxes her to lie down on her left side as his body cradles hers from behind.

They lie there in silence on Scott’s uncovered mattress, too tired and emotionally exhausted to move. Scott’s right hand strokes gently over Tessa’s abdomen over the somewhat damp towel.

“Tess,” he mumbles after a while, “There is no one else I’d rather—”

“Me too,” she abruptly interrupts.

He vaguely remembers—not so long ago— dreaming, voracious for what is between her legs. He thought this scenario could only happen in his (wet, teenage) dreams. It didn’t happen the way he expected. Not at all. Not even close. It happened so fast but yet, so slow at the same time. He can hardly fathom the wonderful mess of lingering skin and tangled limbs that had occurred about an hour ago. The thought of her nakedness pressed against his again makes him shiver. He thought there would be confessions, lazy but meaningful conversation before anything would happen. Instead, it seemed that Tessa needed an escape. And he was willing to help. It sounds so simple but the weight is bearing on his head and his heart. Each moment resounds in his mind, his heart pounding so vigorously as if he was in the proximity of a blaring speaker.

“I should probably get another set of sheets,” he yawns.

“I need to buy you new sheets,” she sighs.

“You really don’t have to. I have a bunch of others.”

“I want to...Please. It’ll make me feel better.”

“Okay. I’ll come with you,” his smile can be heard through his voice.

A sound of lively blitheness emerges from her pretty mouth, directly opposing the current atmosphere.

“What’s so funny?” he asks with amusement.

She shakes her head, her wet locks rubbing against the mattress. “Never mind.”

With one hand, he pulls her closer to him, his lips pressing into the skin between her neck and her shoulder. His fingers continue their lazy pattern over her towel in a comforting caress.

He won’t say it but he knows. He knows it in the depths of his young soul.

He had the privilege of knowing Tessa Virtue in the most intimate of ways.  _Where do we go from here?_ He can’t answer that either.

Earlier, he examined the scars on her calves, the ones that the surgeon would have to open up again. Fifty-two minutes ago, he kissed those blemishes and ran his hands soothingly down her legs, in silent reassurance.  _Everything is going to be okay. I’ll be there this time_.

Beneath his hand lies a world with the power to create life. Somewhere in Tessa’s lower abdomen lies the intricacies of womanhood and all of its glory. The thought makes his insides turn, causing him to noiselessly shudder.

“You all right?” she attempts to look back at him amidst the darkness.

“Yeah,” he scratches his head.

Really, he is anything but okay. A cross may be the pendant around his neck, though he has been very cynical about the idea of there being a higher power lately, in spite of his upbringing.

Still, he has a feeling that someone or some great beyond is watching over him, over them. He makes an unspoken wish, a prayer, that if she would ever create life with her body someday, that the life born would be his.

His mind recalls high school literature, and reading a passage in an assigned book, one that he wasn’t particularly fond of. Yet, he remembers reading about how “love is religious feeling”.

He understands it now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while.
> 
> I have had this chapter sitting dormant for months. I wanted it to be perfect but of course, school and life got in the way of putting my best effort in this chapter. All my previous ideas for this chapter have seemed to have dissipated. After almost two months, I decided to just sit down and finish it as best as I could. I really needed to get it out since it’s been a cloud over my head.
> 
> I apologize for the quality and short length of this chapter. Thank you for reading nonetheless. 
> 
> Only time will tell when the next update will be.
> 
> twitter:
> 
> @_adagietto
> 
>  
> 
> Bonus points to whoever can guess what novel I'm referring to at the end. And if you're curious about Tessa's POV in this chapter, I kept thinking and listening to this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1fLFWxCCbI


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